


in streaks of sunrise

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mirror Sex, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: In those final moments of consciousness, Colin realizes something very important - he likes it here, in bed with Penelope. Maybe with a few less clothes and maybe she’d be a lot closer - but this, this moment and space, feels right.Colin’s been back for hours, but it’s not until now that he feels at home.Drunk and lost, Colin uses his spare key to Penelope’s apartment... and ends up in her bed.
Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
Comments: 46
Kudos: 532





	in streaks of sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this lovely tumblr post (key word here is inspired though.) 
> 
> Really appreciate all the comments/kudos! Always encouraged, daresay required.

It’s a Thursday night in the middle of spring and Colin knows something is wrong. Something has been wrong for a while if he’s honest with himself, but he makes it a point to ignore that voice in the back of his head - the one that sounds suspiciously like his mother, but many times like Anthony too. 

He doesn't like to listen to it. He never has. 

But on this night, when he’s sitting at a bar on his third drink - it might be more than that, but again, he likes to lie to himself - Colin decides that maybe, just maybe, something is wrong.

Usually when he’s traveling, visiting historical sites or hiking mountains or sitting on beaches, there’s a freedom flowing in his veins. It’s a sharp contrast to the heavy burden he feels when he’s back with his family - it doesn’t feel like home, not anymore, hasn’t for a while. His siblings have grown up, many now with families and lives of their own, and he’s just… flown. Drifted. His mother would say he’s aimless, but Colin likes to think he’s just… searching. 

But then again, that might imply he’s lost. 

Colin throws back the rest of his drink. He's not lost. He's just… restless. Something is missing and he’s finally decided it’s time to acknowledge that unsettled feeling that hovers over his shadow like a ghost. He's haunted by an emptiness and an impending sense of dread that life is passing him by no matter how hard he chases it. 

Debating the merits of another glass, his phone vibrates on the counter in front of him. 

> **benedict:** your flight in yet? where you crashing?

Because Colin doesn’t have a place to stay, not after selling his condo last year. It was reckless, a last minute, spontaneous decision to make a damn point - his mother was wrong, he didn’t need to settle down - but if he’s honest… he really doesn’t regret it. 

Although, there is a small part of him that wishes he didn’t have to show up tonight at a siblings’ doorstep intoxicated. The teasing would be merciless. 

> **colin:** got a spare key to el’s. won't have to wake her up. give sophie kisses from me. 
> 
> **benedict:** *middle finger emoji*

Colin locks his phone and takes out his wallet, closing out his tab. The bar is still crowded, still busy, so maybe he is getting old after all. 

He’s tired. 

He just wants to sleep. 

When Colin finally stands at the door in front of Eloise’s apartment, his eyes are stuck on the wreath hanging in welcome. There are yellow and blue butterflies glittering in the low light, staring at him, as if he’s an idiot. 

And maybe he is. Because for a moment, he forgot who else is in this apartment. But instead of making him want to turn around and pick another sibling to bother, it actually… calms him. Maybe sobers him up, just slightly. 

But only a little. 

With a tiny shrug to himself, Colin uses his spare key and unlocks the apartment. 

It’s quiet, which shouldn’t surprise him, because when he glances at the microwave clock it’s _late_ \- well, early, but still - and Penelope has always been a morning person. A quick peek into his sister’s room confirms his suspicions - empty, because Eloise is likely over at her girlfriend’s house. And across the hall, the door just slightly open, is…

Colin pushes open the door, softly, doing his best to stay quiet. And when his eyes fall to the bed, just lit up by the reflection of the moon through the windows, he’s struck speechless.

Because there lies Penelope - and he should look away, go collapse on the couch - but his chest is led by a thread to hers, and in that moment, no matter how sober he believes he is, he is drawn to her bed. To _her_. She lies on her side, one knee oddly bent and the other foot just shy of falling off completely. Sprawled and peaceful, a hand beneath her pillow, she sleeps and Colin just wants to crawl in beside her and wrap her up in his arms.

Now, Colin is drunk, but he’s not quite _that_ drunk. So instead he removes his shoes and socks and shirt and lies above the blanket - his toes are cold, but it’s okay, because the warmth of her body just inches away is good enough. Facing her on his side, his eyes growing heavy, Colin falls asleep with a smile on his face.

In those final moments of consciousness, Colin realizes something very important - he likes it here, in bed with Penelope. Maybe with a few less clothes and maybe she’d be a lot closer - but this, this moment and space, feels right.

Colin’s been back for hours, but it’s not until now that he feels at home.

* * *

When Penelope wakes, it’s all of a sudden. As a morning person, the sunlight is her alarm and as the room grows warmer, she stretches and yawns.

Her hand hits something solid.

Although her body freezes, her eyes fly open - and immediately close again. Because this must be a dream. It _has_ to be, because that’s the only way that Colin Bridgerton would be in her _bed_.

Shirtless.

 _Very_ shirtless.

Blinking, Penelope clears the sleep from her eyes - but nothing changes. Colin is still in her bed, curled up on his side towards her, his hand just inches from her face. His breathing is steady and the sun glitters off the contours of his back and shoulders. It’s not as if she hasn’t seen him shirtless before - at the pool or the beach, or that one time when he stayed over and came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips…

Penelope swallows and turns away quickly. With a deep breath, she slips out of bed. She needs coffee. Colin will likely need coffee too. So, she distracts herself with her morning routine - brushing teeth, washing her face, turning on the coffee machine… all the while ignoring the man in her bed.

At some point, her feet wander back to her room. Her arms are crossed over her chest - she sleeps in an old t-shirt and shorts, so the less of her visible the better - and she peers in, leaning against the doorway. Colin has shifted, now on his stomach, the muscles of his back statuesque and yet rippling at the same time. One of his hands is tucked beneath a pillow - _her_ pillow - and the blankets that he previously slept over have somehow tangled with his legs. 

Colin has always been a lot. A lot to handle, a lot to absorb. He’s charming and sarcastic and smooth, tart strawberry cheesecake in the middle of winter. So it doesn’t surprise Penelope that her mouth is dry as she studies him. It’s more surprising that he’s there at all - shirtless and asleep _in her bed._

“Instead of staring,” says Colin, suddenly, his voice hoarse, “you should come back to bed.” His head tilts so he can see her. “I need a hug.”

He’s too much - he’s too cute, with his messy hair and easy grin and his _words_ \- because he’s asking her for something that she’s too willing to give. 

Besides, it’s not like they haven’t hugged before. Colin’s hugs are her favorite. But this - horizontal, on _her bed_ \- 

Some outside force pushes her forward and then she’s standing beside him, close enough for him to tug on her wrist. Sighing, she lies down facing him but keeps a good three inches in between them. Despite his earlier request, Colin doesn’t approach the distance. Instead, he drifts a hand in between their bodies, his pinky drawing spirals over the back of her palm. 

It’s quiet and calm and so _much_ , her heart doesn’t know which rhythm to follow: short, staccato beats, morse coded cries for help, a deep and dull bass drum. Penelope tries to just inhale the moment: of Colin with his eyes closed and strands of hair tickling his forehead as he tries not to smile. She inhales the steady morning light as it glows around him, the reflection of sunrise itched on his skin.

But when she exhales, Penelope frowns. “Colin…” Sighing, she holds his hand in hers so it’ll stop moving. “Why are you in my bed?” Her eyes flicker down despite herself. “Shirtless?”

Finally, Colin opens his eyes. They’re very clearly tired, a little red, but mostly lucid and very much locked onto her. “I needed a place to crash last night.”

He has their spare key, of course, so this makes sense. But… “My bed?” Her thumb moves against his palm. “Your shirt?”

“I wasn’t exactly sober.” His fingers intertwine with hers. “You were there and I wanted to… ” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, the little furrow in his forehead deepening for a moment. “I wanted to sleep next to you.” 

Penelope’s heart stops all together.

“You did?”

Colin nods and slowly, pulls their hands to his chest. Her knuckles graze his skin and Penelope wonders if he’s human or fire, because she’s afraid to get burned. Somehow, she moves closer, needing to be closer, to be warmer. He squeezes her hand. 

“I don’t remember taking off my shirt.” Colin studies her with an intense concentration that she can’t ever remember from him - not when they were kids, and she was the annoying best friend to his little sister; not when she was in university and he had just started traveling and she would share ideas for her tiny newspaper while he shared his blog posts; not even recently, when Penelope published a front page article and Colin called her all the way from Japan.

This is different.

Penelope exhales. “Colin…” she whispers, barely, and something in him seems to snap, because his other arm is around her waist, pulling her closer until they’re chest to chest, hands crushed between them, his forehead resting just above hers. 

“Penelope.” He says her name like a hymn, with reverence and care, as if every syllable of her name tastes like gold. “I’m tired.” When she stills, he shakes his head softly. “No, Pen, I’m tired of - wandering. Of drifting.”

“Floating?”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a moment as they digest his confession. The war in Penelope’s mind feels unwinnable and dire, but the words travel faster than her thoughts. “You’re lucky, you know? You have money and the support of your family - you could go wherever you wanted to. Now worries, no cares.”

“But I do care.” Colin strains back slightly just enough to catch her gaze. “And - traveling can be…” he trails off, as if the word catches in his throat and feels sticky and an admission of failure. “Lonely.”

The word is barely a whisper. 

With one hand still trapped between their hearts, intertwined with his, Penelope runs her other up his arm, over his shoulder, until she holds his face. Colin leans into her touch, just barely, but it’s enough. 

It’s enough to send her heart through cartwheels and flips and Penelope can barely breathe. Their eyes haven’t separated. His face feels so close, and his lips look pink and soft and Penelope has wanted to kiss Colin for so long, she almost worries that all her expectations will only lead to disappointment. 

But then, his tongue wets his lips and: “Be my anchor, Pen. Let me come home to you.”

Penelope kisses Colin and she shouldn’t have worried: reality exceeds expectations. 

Kissing Colin is dangerous. His skin under her hands feels like skimming lake water in the middle of July. Just a taste doesn’t feel quite enough and she wants to jump in. And when Colin nips at her lip, she melts, his thigh edging between hers, and she wraps an ankle around his hips. His kisses are wet, his tongue against her neck and her ear, and his whispers…

_You taste so good._

_You’re gorgeous._

_I can’t get enough of you._

Penelope’s hand dips below his shirt, over his abs and ribs and down his side. He’s warm and hard and all she wants is to _touch_ him. So her hand drifts lower, to his belt, and Colin groans into her neck.

“Pen - ” Colin growls, before catching her hand. “Pen, we shouldn’t.”

“Yes we should,” she says, her hands traveling back up, craving his skin and his kisses. Colin is a gentleman, always has been, so she knows what’s coming.

But Penelope knows - this is her shot. She knows this is a dream creeping into reality for just a moment, a foggy morning in Spring, but soon the weather will turn and Colin will realize this is a mistake.

That’s she Penelope and he’s Colin and this can’t be more than this, this time and place. Her and him, in that morning, in her bed.

So when Colin shakes his head, and says, “Pen - I didn’t come here for - ” she kisses him silent.

“I want you,” she says into his lips. Her nails scrape down his back and Colin thrusts forward, grinding against her center. “Please, Colin.” She removes her lips, only just slightly, so she’s practically whispering in his mouth, but Colin’s eyes - they are dark and they are intense, and Penelope wants to drown in them. _“Please.”_

Colin sinks his fingers into her hair, pulls her face towards his, and kisses her.

Her hand returns to studying the ripples and crevices of his body, linger over his shoulder blades and just above his pants. Colin licks her neck. “I love you touching me.” A kiss, a nibble just beside her collarbone. “Pen, I want to feel you.”

Biting her lip, she fingers the hem of her shirt. With Colin looking at her like _that_ \- green eyes of emerald fire, encouraging and eager and just slightly on edge… she inhales and strips off her shirt.

Immediately, her nipples harden. It’s cold and Colin’s studying her. Her arms move to cover herself - only just slightly, because she’s _proud_ of her body, really, but this is _Colin_ \- but he grabs both of her wrists in his hands and shakes his head. Slowly, as if he’s savoring the moment and the view, Colin leans in and captures her lips with his teeth, with his tongue, until she can only breathe because of his breaths. 

“I wish you saw yourself the way I do.” His eyes flicker behind her for a moment and Penelope frowns when he stops kissing her. She moves to grab the back of his neck to refocus him, but instead Colin grins and nudges her up, so she’s sitting on her bed...

Facing her floor length mirror. Their reflections are a painting; his skin against hers, his arm wrapping around her, fingers grazing beneath her breast. Penelope can’t look away; she can’t tear her gaze from his hand, touching and caressing and feeling, but she does feel his breath against her neck, her tongue flicking against her ear. “Look at you,” he says, low and soft, yet commanding. Colin is hypnotizing, yet coaxing, charming as always. “Look how beautiful you are.”

And in his arms, with Colin feeling her and kissing her, she _feels_ beautiful. She’s known it, of course, in that way she knows she’s important and people love her and that she has talent… but to feel it, in her bones and in her heart, is something very different.

Colin makes her feel beautiful.

“Colin…” His name tastes sweet, deep and pink. 

His tongue circles her ear. “Are you wet, Pen?” She tries to nod, tries to moan, isn’t really sure what happens, other than Colin chuckling in her ear and his hand drifting to her shorts. “Should I check?”

_“Please.”_

She watches their reflections; she watches how his hand slips beneath her shorts, her underwear, his middle finger just barely grazing her clit. Penelope tries to thrust against his hand, have him closer, but his arm holds her in place. 

“Do you trust me?” he whispers. She nods, only just reluctantly. “Can I taste you?” This nod is less reluctant, more eager.

Penelope has had other men, of course, and a few have made her come with their mouths. But this… this is _Colin_ , sinking to his knees in front of her, removing her shorts with reverence, his eyes flickering between her face and in between her legs. When he pushes her thighs apart and _smiles_ \- not a grin, not a smirk, but a genuine smile, as if he’s in awe and truly _pleased_ \- Penelope wonders if she might come just from sight alone.

“Look at me,” he says, a command really, and she melts some more. Forcing her eyes open, she looks at him, at his messy hair and his wet, pink lips. He kisses her inner thigh. “I want you to watch yourself in the mirror.”

Penelope stiffens. “Colin - ” She exhales, her eyes flickering from his to the mirror, where she sits, completely naked. The painting moves, Colin’s head between her legs, her breasts heaving in anticipation… a finger begins circling her clit and Penelope nods. “I trust you.”

“Good girl.” Her muscles squeeze at his words and Colin must note that because she feels his approval when he kisses her opening, licks at it, before sinking a finger. He pumps into her, in and out, adding another finger, all the while kissing and licking and circling with his tongue. 

And all the while, Penelope watches herself. She’s glowing, his pink tongue and lips turning her golden, and she’s rising and rising, until she’s an exploding sun, melting from the inside out. Colin coaxes her, whispering to her, but she can’t hear him, not with her heart beating so loud. 

Finally, Colin stands, only to push her back against the bed and hovers. “Penelope Featherington…” He kisses her and Penelope isn’t sure she can be his anchor when he makes her fly so easily. 

When Colin moves as if to step back, she holds his neck, keeping their lips together. “There’s condoms in the nightstand.” His forehead rests on hers, his breathing uneven, and even if his pants are still on, she can feel how hard he is against her stomach. “Colin - ”

“You’re sure?”

“More than anything.”

Penelope keeps her eyes trained on the ceiling, but she hears him opening a drawer before ripping open a condom. Propping herself up on her elbows, she watches him unbuckle his belt, watches the pants fall to his ankles, watches - well, he is hard and curved and _thick_ \- 

He rolls on the condom. “So,” he says, laughter coloring his voice but her eyes stay stuck on his cock in his hands. “Later, we’ll discuss the vibrator in your nightstand.”

Penelope swears, eyes widening, but Colin is only smiling warmly. “I forgot about that.”

“I won’t.” He leans over and kisses her stomach, then her ribs. One hand rests on her breast, squeezing, while his mouth hovers the other, twisting her nipple with his tongue. 

_“Oh.”_ Everything tightens again, eager for him to sink inside her. She intertwines her hands in his hair. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” He switches breasts, but his other hand rests just on her hips, drifting so his thumb circles her clit once more. “I love hearing you say that.” His teeth graze her nipple.

“Colin?” She tugs his head upwards so she can look into his eyes. “Fuck me.”

The constant smile on his lips flickers. 

But then he’s kissing her, his cock running against her center, covering himself in her. Penelope rests her feet on the edge of the bed, creating the perfect place for Colin to hook his arms through her legs, just at the head of his cock sinks into her opening.

The stretching burns, just a little, but Colin is slow, pulling back before thrusting in, just a little bit more. The stretch is now pleasure, especially as Colin keeps rocking, in and out, more and more of him throbbing within her. Until, finally, he sinks in so deep, Penelope wonders how she ever thought she could move on from him.

Because he’s pink and she’s gold and they’re tangled together in streaks of sunset, their reflections glittering against the surface of a lake.

“Pen.” He grunts, as if he’s trying to be gentle but just _can’t_ and Penelope understands. Her hands scratch down his back, one squeeze his ass, pulling him deeper. Colin understands too, because he thrusts in so deep and Penelope feels a scream fall from her lips. “Oh, _Pen_.”

His words feel nonsensical, but they are flower petals tickling her skin as he drives into her, higher and higher, and Penelope meets him with her own hips, drawing him as close as possible, his chest squished against her breasts. His heartbeats match his panted whispers - her name, his feelings, their hopes - and they wash over Penelope like flames against wax, until she’s melting, shaking, falling - 

Penelope comes with tears in her eyes and a giggle on her lips and Colin kisses them both away before taking his pleasure and coming too.

Colin kisses her again, fully and deeply, and Penelope knows her heart struggles against the cage of her ribs to cuddle beside him, especially when he gets up to throw away the condom. 

The emptiness - the silence, the cold that hovers and rests in the twisted and wrinkled blankets - feels sudden, but Penelope knows it’s inevitable. 

Now, Colin will leave - realize this was all a mistake; he got caught up in the moment, but she’s his friend, practically his sister -

“You should go.” Penelope wraps herself up in the blanket, not looking at Colin, who is frozen in the doorway to her room. She grabs his clothes, scattered around, and pushes them into his chest. He might make a move to stop her, but she’s a flurry of movement - because if she stops, then the cracks will widen and she’ll fall apart.

No, it’s better she pushes him away first.

As she throws on her shirt, she slides past him. “I’m going to use the bathroom. UTIs, and everything.” Still, she can’t look at him, has to force herself to ignore him completely. “You can get dressed… there’s coffee in the kitchen.”

The coffee is cold, but she has to be polite. This is still Eloise’s brother. This is still - 

“Penelope.” His voice is strangled, like he’s choking on it. 

She ignores him and slips into the bathroom.

When Penelope finally comes out, Colin’s gone.

* * *

Colin leaves, fuming.

He likes to think he’s level-headed and can control his temper.

But right now, after Penelope _kicks him out_ , he’s _fuming._ So he takes a walk around the block of Penelope’s apartment.

Colin isn’t angry at Penelope, exactly, because he thinks he understands the switch - because there was a switch, a change, a moment where Penelope started to push him away instead of pulling him closer, _deeper -_

He runs a hand through his hair. Ten minutes ago, Colin finally knew peace. He finally knew what it meant to feel _complete_ \- what it meant to be both free and grounded at the same time. With Penelope, wrapped up in her, holding her and kissing her and _loving_ \- 

Colin stops.

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

Colin pounds at her door and waits for three seconds.

The door swings open.

“Colin?” Penelope crosses her arms over her chest, still only just wearing the same thin t-shirt she had pulled off barely an hour ago. “What are you doing - ”

“Will you go out with me?” Colin feels breathless, so he barely hears her, words flying through his mind, knocking against his throat.

“What?” 

“I want to go out on a date with you.” Colin pulls open the door completely and rests his hands on either side of the doorframe. “I want to go out on _many_ dates with you, until you’re my girlfriend. Because I want that.” Penelope opens her mouth, probably to protest, but he shakes his head. His hand reaches for her, holding her, his fingers in her hair, his thumb against her lips. “I’m serious, Pen. I’m serious about _you_ .” A gasp leaves her lips and Colin wants to catch it. “We can travel the world - _together_ \- but I wasn’t just missing home. I was missing _you_.”

Her eyes study him, each inch of his face. Colin keeps breathing, inhale and exhale, waiting and waiting and _waiting_ \- but really, this is what he deserves. How long had she waited for him? Waited for that gradual build to reach its climax, until he could understand that these feelings coursing through his blood mirrored the butterflies in her veins.

“Colin - I - ” she pauses, hesitates, and Colin takes another step so they are both fully in the apartment. He uses his foot to shut the door. “You want to - _date_ me?”

“I want to do more than that,” he says, his other hand now on her hip, pulling her closer. She might lose her balance, but there’s no way he’s letting go now. “But sure, yes, let’s start with a date.” 

Penelope slowly smiles and it’s the sun behind the clouds. Resting her hands on his chest, Penelope stares up at him, and finally, _finally_ he recognizes that look in her eyes.

It’s the love reflecting in his own.

Before he can voice the thought though, Penelope pulls his head down and kisses him.

Okay, he’ll tell her later. 

Maybe when she’s naked and her legs are entangled with his while his mouth marks her neck and her breasts and - 

“Bed,” she says. 

“Later,” he responds.

And then Colin makes love to Penelope on the floor of her apartment, whispering confessions in between kisses.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @pensbridgerton and tumblr @pensbridgrton
> 
> i have more drabbles/ficlets on my tumblr under my "bridgerton fic" tag


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